


cherry red

by simplyclockwork



Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Fics - Part Two [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Borderline Smut, Innuendo, Jealous John Watson, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27104773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: Prompted by @mundancheemudomo on Tumblr:Fluff (or smut) prompt: Sherlock eats a lollipop, and John is jealous of the candy
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Fics - Part Two [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968538
Comments: 24
Kudos: 137





	cherry red

**Author's Note:**

> This, uh, got rather shameless.

John sat in his chair with his legs crossed, and the newspaper held firmly in front of him, spread out to both cover his lap and block the sight of Sherlock across from him. He used the technique when Sherlock was particularly annoying or exuberant, though today, the tactic served an entirely different function. Namely, hiding John’s unwanted erection and blocking his view of Sherlock eating a lollipop.

A _lollipop_ , of all things. What adult man—no, what _adult,_ full stop, ate _lollipops?_ No one that John knew. At least, not any adult he ever saw outside of a commercial or some very specific pornography. While he _knew_ Sherlock had a sweet-tooth, he never thought the man would be the kind of person to occupy their mouth with such a time-consuming sweet willingly. With the licking and the sucking, and the curling of his tongue around the hard surface… Well, that was _quite_ enough thinking in _that_ direction.

His jeans growing tight, John crossed his legs together more firmly. The action only served to half-crush his growing erection, and he muffled a groan of discomfort against his fist.

“John?”

The sound of his name made him freeze, and John bit harder into his knuckles before dropping his hand and replying, “Yes, Sherlock?”

“Are you alright? You sound… strange.”

Praying that his face wasn’t too flushed, John lowered the newspaper and looked at Sherlock with a flat expression, his eyebrows quirked. “I’m fine, perfectly fine.” His eyes narrowed as Sherlock tapped the lollipop against his bottom lip, leaving behind a small, sticky mark. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s not like you to fidget,” Sherlock noted, gesturing at John’s crossed legs. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Fine,” John snapped, repeating himself as he shook the paper out in front of him again, trying to block out the sight of Sherlock’s damned tongue flicking out over the lollipop. His tongue was stained red, as were his lips, and _that was not helping._ Why did it have to be a _red_ lollipop? _Of course_ it had to be a red lollipop. How else would Sherlock torture John so thoroughly?

“You don’t _seem_ fine, John.” To his horror, Sherlock rose, unfolding his long legs from their bent position as he peered at John over his newspaper. “Have you eaten?”

Blinking up at him, John frowned. “What?”

“I said, have you eaten?” One of Sherlock’s brows rose into a questioning arch. “Do you need your hearing checked?”

“My hearing is _just fine,_ thank you,” John growled before setting his newspaper aside with a petulant wrinkle. “I ate breakfast two hours ago. Why do you care?”

Sherlock looked briefly taken-aback by the venom but recovered. His eyes narrowed and flickered over John with a thoughtful twist to his mouth. His red, sticky, pouty mouth. _God damn you and your libido, Watson,_ John thought to himself, his internal voice scathing. _It’s just a lollipop—keep it together!_

“I thought maybe your blood sugar might be low.” Sherlock’s voice was perfectly casual, but when John looked up into his eyes, he thought he saw a gleam there that made him tense.

_Oh, you bastard._

“Nope,” John forced out through his teeth as he fixed an artificial smile on his face. “My blood sugar is perfectly fine, thanks for asking.” He reached for the newspaper again, but not before Sherlock knelt before him and laid a hand on John’s knee. “What are you doing?”

Ignoring him, Sherlock asked, “Are you sure?” The gleam was definitely not imagined. Sherlock’s eyes glittered with a playful mischief that forced John to cross his legs even tighter. His willpower wavered, and a helpless gasp slipped from his lips as they fell open when Sherlock asked, all wide eyes and eyelash-fluttering innocence, “You’re _sure_ you don’t want a lick of my lollipop?”

The groan that built up in John’s chest was nearly impossible to swallow, but he managed, almost choking. “I’m good,” he wheezed, his cock now protesting where his thighs squashed it down. “Where did you get that anyway?”

One of Sherlock’s eyebrows drifted upward, his expression wicked as he stared at John’s flushed face. “A client gave it to me,” he said, still knelt in front of John’s crossed legs. “I said I didn’t want his money, and he offered me something to suck on.”

“You said no to another paying client?” John began, feeling a rush of annoyance before Sherlock’s words filtered through and wiped his mind clear. “Hold on, he _what?”_

Sherlock’s smirk made John grumble, the detective shifting forward as his hand tightened on John’s knee. “He gave me something to put _in my mouth.”_

“You…” John opened his own mouth, closed it, and shook his head. _Oh, two can play this game,_ he thought, teeth bared in a wolfish grin. “Pity, that.” Keeping his voice controlled, John uncrossed his legs with a slow, deliberate motion, spreading his legs as he settled back in the chair and shook out the newspaper. The absence of pressure on his cock almost made him moan. “Money would have been nice.” John caught the way Sherlock’s eyes dropped to his groin just before the newspaper came up between them.

A tense silence followed. Sherlock’s hand lingered on his knee, and John pretended to read about the latest rugby match results.

A swift intake of breath was his only warning before Sherlock clawed the newspaper out of his hands and slithered between his open legs. _“John,”_ he hissed, his pale eyes glittering. He gripped the lollipop between his teeth and slid both hands up John’s knees, over his thighs to his belt, fingers hooking over the leather and tugging.

Eyes narrowed, John pressed his hips back into the chair and arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something, Sherlock?”

Unable to speak around the candy in his mouth, Sherlock closed his lips over the lollipop and growled low in his throat, nails leaving indents in the supple leather of John’s belt. When John just looked back at him with an innocent expression, Sherlock growled again and lifted a hand.

Before he could grip the stick poking out of his mouth, John caught his wrist and dropped it back on his belt, Sherlock going still and wide-eyed with attentive obedience. A slow, sharp smile curved John’s lips, and he leaned forward until their faces were inches apart, and John could feel Sherlock’s hard exhales as they escaped through his nose.

“Gave you something to suck on, did he?” he asked in a quiet, dangerous voice. Sherlock’s eyelids dropped to half-mast, and he shivered, hands kneading at John’s belt as he nodded. John’s tongue darted out and swept over his bottom lip in a calculated glide. Sherlock followed the movement with darkening eyes, his pupils blown wide. “Does that mean you’re full up? Not hungry for something else?” John tapped a finger against the lollipop stick before dragging his thumb over Sherlock’s lower lip, making Sherlock clench his teeth and whine low in his throat.

Sherlock shook his head with apparent vehemence, and his eyes fixed on John’s face, his cheeks steadily darkening as a flush worked up his neck to the tips of his ears.

Smirking, John gripped the stick poking out of Sherlock’s lips, tilting even closer until his knees butted up against Sherlock’s chest. “Good, I thought not. Now,” his eyes narrowed, and he tugged lightly on the lollipop, “give me this damned thing.”

Sherlock’s mouth popped open immediately, teeth parting to let John remove the lollipop. Before he hooked his hands under Sherlock’s arms and dragged him up into his lap for a searing kiss, John whipped the candy into the fireplace with a snarl.

Sherlock tasted like cherry, his lips and tongue sticky with candy. John devoured him with hands and mouth before Sherlock wrapped his plush lips around an entirely different hard treat.


End file.
